Duality
by MajorSam
Summary: An incident with ancient Vampire technology unleashes a very different Helen Magnus on the Sanctuary Network. Meanwhile, the real Magnus fights to stay alive at the mercy of an old enemy.
1. Happy Birthday

**Author's Notes:** Welcome all to my grand experiment! For the first time ever, I'm posting a story BEFORE it's finished. I have the next two chapters written, but after that, it's free for all! I'm going to take all suggestions/ideas that I can and fit it in; YOU are going to help shape this story! I DO have the ending set, and a few things in between, but I'm going to have several weeks/months of fic-time to fill ;) Thanks to NoCleverSig, loyal beta and friend.

**Note: SPOILERS** for "Tempus" ! DO NOT read until you've seen that wonderful, beautiful episode!

**Duality**  
><strong>Copyright MajorSam, 2011 <strong>

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><p>Helen Magnus was excited. Very excited. She was glad she was alone; because the bounce in her step and the smile on her face wouldn't be appropriate were here team present.<p>

It was 3:29 in the afternoon on August 27th, 2011, but the hot, Armenian afternoon didn't penetrate into the cave Magnus was currently exploring. In fact, she'd had to put her brown, leather jacket on over her light, linen blouse and khaki pants. She'd been wary about the mission at first. The last time she'd discovered an ancient cave with evidence of vampire habitation she'd almost freed a mad vampire queen bent on planetary domination. But so far no traps had been sprung, no hidden doors had enveloped her, and no crystal stasis pods had appeared. She let herself relax as much as she ever could in the field while her adventurous, scientific mind appreciated the wonder of her discovery. The markings on the walls had started only a few feet into the main tunnel. She'd immediately sensed that something spectacular was inside. She was sure Nikola would be insufferable when he found out his information had been correct. She still didn't know exactly how he'd come to know the location of the cave, which did worry her, but she knew better than to directly question the vampire. She accepted the fact that she'd find out eventually. Until then, she was willing to go along with it.

As Magnus stepped out of a musty tunnel into a vast, domed ceilinged chamber, she knew why Nikola had been so eager. He'd travelled with her to Armenia, but after much debate, she'd convinced him to stay at the hotel. While he could be useful in escaping any traps, he'd be more likely to set the traps off in the first place, either by his over-exuberance or his vampire physiology.

Magnus did a full 360 degree scan of the chamber she'd found, her eyes wide. The cavern was vast, and its floor was covered in a thick layer of dust. When had anyone last walked through this space? Hundreds, perhaps thousands of years ago? She could easily imagine a throng of vampires, graceful and arrogant, gathered in this hall, planning their next conquest. The cave's rounded walls were pocketed with window-like alcoves which were carved into the rock itself, each one spaced barely two feet apart. Within each alcove was a flat ledge, about four feet high. Every ledge held an object. Helen did a quick count, and found there were more than four dozen in total. The objects were as diverse as they were plentiful; Several were shiny, a few were dull, some glowed, while others remained shaded. She couldn't even begin to guess their purpose.

She'd found an ancient, vampire museum.

This was definitely the perfect way to spend her birthday. She'd been more than thankful to her team for not bringing it up. 160 candles would have been bad enough, she didn't think they were quite ready to deal with 273. This cave was much better than cake. The potential knowledge that dwelled in this treasure trove almost made her head spin. With Praxis destroyed, this chamber could hold the most advanced technology on Earth. Any one of these artifacts could turn out to be instrumental in balancing the war between the now surface-dwelling abnormals and humans. Even the cavern itself seemed to be mystically engineered. The alcoves were all perfectly carved, the floor smooth, and the walls elaborately decorated. The walls themselves looked like normal rock, yet emitted a phosphorous light that was far from natural.

Magnus walked up to the first alcove on her left, careful of her footing just in case. On a pedestal lay a small, golden sphere. Perfect in shape and smoothness, its surface looked oily, and when she stared at it, it seemed to come alive, undulating and shifting. She found herself mesmerized, dropping her pack by her side. Slowly, the surface of the sphere rippled outwards until a shape started to appear. Magnus' lips opened in shock as her own face started to take form. She blinked rapidly and stepped back, shaking her head. Her reflection vanished, and the oily surface stilled.

"Let's not get too excited," she berated herself. She had no idea what these devices were meant for. She decided to conduct an initial survey, document and describe each item, then return the next day with appropriate supplies for safe containment and shipping. She clicked on her radio to update Tesla, but as she should have guessed,, the signal was too weak to penetrate so far underground.

_Ah well,_ she smirked. _Let Nikola fret a while longer._

She quickly tied her long, dark hair into a ponytail, tossing it behind her back and out of the way, then reached into her pack and started taking out writing supplies. The scratching of her pen on paper echoed across the walls, and she felt an uneasy tingle. Despite being 273 years old, she felt like a child who'd stumbled into that one room in the house her parents had always forbidden her from. She ignored her unease, and continued to work. Half an hour later, she was writing down the dimensions of a large, crystalline cone when she heard a soft, whirring sound. She frowned, turned around, and saw the little golden sphere poised perfectly still in mid-air, mere inches from her face.

"Oh my," she breathed, taking a step back. The cone behind her suddenly lit up. A mechanical noise echoed down from the top of the cave, and a red light shot out of a jade mask that lay in an alcove on the other side of the cavern. The light separated into 10 separate beams spread across two feet. The beams hit the floor at Magnus' feet before travelling up her body. She felt warm. The entire process took about two seconds. Her last thought before falling unconscious to the floor was:

_I'm going to kill Nikola._

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><p>Magnus gasped, eyes flying open, bolting upright, reaching out to grasp the wall to balance herself. She exhaled heavily, mouth open, eyes wide. She felt… good?<p>

More than good, she felt _fantastic_!

Her vision was sharp, her smell keen, and she could hear every whisper of sound in the cave and the tunnel beyond. She stood up in one, graceful movement. She looked down. A body lay sprawled and unconscious on the ground beside her. It looked remarkably like her… Helen Magnus.

That was interesting.

She bent down, rifling through the pack that laid beside the body until she found a mirror, and looked at herself. She was definitely Helen Magnus, with all the memories, emotions, and experience that came with her 273 years. She looked at the prone body again and felt an irrational swell of hatred. They were both Helen Magnus, but the conscious woman knew that she was the superior version. She closed her eyes and felt a sense of purpose filling her. She grinned, and her face rippled with a dark light, emanating from within. She opened her eyes and looked down at the other Magnus. They were wearing the same outfit, but the body was wearing a watch. She looked down at her bare wrist, and then walked towards the body. It was still breathing. She kicked it. It stirred, but didn't wake. She knelt down, removed its watch, and put it on her own, slim wrist. She hefted the pack onto her back as if it weighed nothing. In reality, it weighed a great deal. She hadn't known what to expect in the cave, so prepared as best she could.

The cave lay at the bottom of a valley within the Armenian mountains. There was a road close by, and with the right vehicle, she was sure she could have made it all the way to the cavern, but a car parked in the middle of the valley would look much to conspicuous. She didn't want anyone knowing she was there. She'd driven for a while out of the city of Akhtala, but left the car and walked the last five miles. With a last, derisive look down at her double, Magnus let loose another kick, right into her ribcage. The body grunted, but didn't wake.

"Pathetic," the standing woman sneered. Then she turned around, and strode out of the cave.

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><p>A while later Helen Magnus awoke, groaning. Her head pounded, she felt sick, and shooting pains tore through her stomach and ribs. She slowly hoisted herself up onto her hands and knees, vision swimming. She clutched her stomach with one hand while the other splayed on the ground to balance herself. She frowned at her wrist, her fuzzy brain coming to focus on one thing: her watch was gone. Blearily, she looked around. Her pack was also missing. She gritted her teeth, falling a bit to the side so she could sit down and lean her weary body against the smooth wall. She wracked her mind for answers. The sphere. Light. Sound. Darkness. She sighed. None of that explained why her watch and pack were missing. She rubbed her forehead, wincing as the pounding continued. She reached out to her side for her radio, but found only cold ground and dusty air.<p>

The radio had been in her pack.

_Damn_.

She knew it was of no use right now, but she wanted it out and ready so she could call Nikola as soon as she found signal. She resigned herself to the fact that she would have to head back to the hotel, restock supplies, and return to the cave the next day before she could start figuring anything out. She planted her hands on the ground and pushed, but her wrists gave out and she fell back down.

_Why am I so weak? _Shewondered. _God, I'm tired…_ She felt her eyelids growing heavy.

_No, stay awake! You have to get to Nikola, you can't sleep. If you have a concussion…_

Her head slumped against her shoulder and her body went slack, sliding a few inches down the wall, completely unconscious.

The other Magnus approached the opening of the cave, stopping to prepare herself to emerge into bright sunlight after so long in the murky caverns. Then she had a thought. She almost laughed as she removed her pack, dropping it to her side and kneeling down. _This will certainly make things easier_. She opened one of the outside pockets and brought out her cell phone.

_Thank God for the satellite reception I had Henry set up,_ she thought as she dialed a number she hadn't thought about in years. She hoped it still worked. It rang only twice before she heard the click of someone answering.

"The owls are in season, but I won't shoot them down," she said quickly.

There was silence on the line, and she feared they would hang up. Had the code changed since she'd last used it? No, she didn't think so. These people stuck to some traditions as though their lives depended on it.

"Who? Where?" a smooth voice, heavy with a Russian accent, finally replied.

"I'll give you the satellite coordinates in one moment. I have a present for you."

The voice grunted.

"Helen Magnus."

Thirty miles away the source of the voice's eyes grew wide. Then they narrowed. His lips curled upwards revealing perfect, white teeth in a smile that graced his handsome but cold features maybe once every five years.

A minute later Magnus ended the call, placing the phone into the pocket of her khakis as she shrugged off her soft, leather coat. She folded it carefully and added it to her pack. She was glad to be rid of her pathetic double so quickly. There was only room for one Helen Magnus in the Sanctuary Network, and it was _her_turn at the wheel. On her walk out of the caves, she'd rapidly reviewed the status of the Network, and found it wanting. She had a lot of work ahead of her to get it running as it should be, and she couldn't wait to begin. When she walked out into the light, there was a bounce in her step and a smile on her face.

_To be continued…_

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><p>Yes, my working title for this fic was called "Repli!Magnus" – all of you Stargate fans know what I'm talking about ;)<p>

We obviously haven't seen how the Sanctuary is dealing with the abnormal insurgents, but I'm pretty sure it's going to last the whole season, thus I'll be kind of dealing with it in my own way in this fic. I won't be following season 4 exactly, but will probably make mention of it. I will of course address the whole "I just spent a mysterious 113 years alone" issue as well!

And btw, if James Watson thought our present-day Helen Magnus had no humanity… oh James, you ain't seen nothing yet ;)


	2. New Boss in Town

**A/N:** From now on, I'm referring to the original Helen Magnus as "Helen" and the copy as "Magnus" ! Please keep that in mind :D SO sorry for the delay in updating. I'll try to be more regular, but no promises! I have one more chapter ready to go, but after that I'm flying by the seat of my pants, along with all YOUR suggestions :p

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><p>Helen didn't know how much time had passed when she woke up. The unnatural light of the cave remained unchanged; eerie and unsettling. The silence was still palpable, and her body still hurt. She tentatively tested her strength, placing her hands on the ground and pushing herself up. Her arms stayed straight if a little shaky. She slowly hauled herself to her feet, suddenly glad she wouldn't have to carry her weighty pack back to the hotel. She couldn't help her feet dragging heavily through the dust as she trudged along the tunnels. The dust rose up into the air in little, dirty clouds, clogging her nose and throat, making her tongue feel like cotton in between rough coughing. It got into her eyes, and no measure of blinking could remove the grit. She really was going to give Nikola a stern talking to. Just what the hell was he thinking, sending her alone to a place like this? She knew her anger was childish, as she'd forced him to let her go, but still. Had he known the trove would be there? Did he know what the objects were meant to do? Would he know right away what had happened to her?<p>

The questions drifted through her mind as she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. It felt like she had a bad hangover the day after she'd been in a bar brawl; sick from head to toe, inside and out. Ah well. She'd had worse. Of all the situations she'd found herself in the last few years, this was barely a hiccup. And if any of the devices proved useful…

"My, my, my…" a deep voice suddenly cut through her thoughts. It took a moment for her to register why the voice was familiar. Her eyes grew wide. _No, it couldn't be…_ The voice was deeper, now, harder. She rounded the final corner of the tunnel, emerging into the final stretch before daylight.

A dozen men blocked her path. An impeccably dressed man of 6'3" stood in front, his arms crossed, his head shaking in wonder.

"Sergei..." she breathed, shocked. He was alive? What the hell was he doing in Armenia? How did he know where she was?

"Cary," he crooned. "Or should I say Helen Magnus?" She swallowed heavily. How did he know her real name? "I knew you wouldn't forget me," he continued, "I'm just surprised she was right. You _are_ here."

Helen frowned. _Who was right?_

"I would have ignored the call, but she had the code."

"She?"

"And when she said _you_ were the target… well. I couldn't pass up the chance, could I?" He started to walk towards her, and Helen glanced around quickly, trying to find an avenue of escape. There was none.

"I'm looking forward to catching up with you, my dear Helen," His voice was light, but his hands were clenching by his sides. Helen planted her feet, took a deep breath, and raised her fists. She wouldn't go down without a fight. She couldn't be taken by him… A shot of pain suddenly flared from her leg. She frowned and looked down. A little, red feather tingled innocently on the end of a long, thick dart.

_Damnit…_

She stumbled backwards, trying desperately to combat the effects of the tranquilizer. Another one hit her shoulder. Sergei chuckled and closed the distance between them. He reached out and grabbed her arms. She flailed, trying to throw him off, but her protests were weak. He squeezed her roughly as darkness started to cloud the corners of her vision. It bore down on her like a dim cloud, unstoppable. Her mouth worked open and closed in silent protest as he guided her to the ground, her legs giving out. By the time he was kneeling, she lay at his feet, limp, and unconscious. He reached out and stroked her hair. He'd been waiting for this moment for a long, long time. _Helen Magnus, under his control_. And this time, he wouldn't let her seduce him, she would not kill any of his men, and he would _not_ let her escape.

"Let's go," Sergei called to his men as he stood up. Two trotted forward to pick up Helen, carrying her to the trucks they had parked outside the cave entrance. The convoy drove to the airport. The woman on the phone had told him none of Magnus' people would come looking for her, but he wasn't taking any chances. He would take her far away from this place. He had a special landing strip reserved for him; it helped to have a reputation as strong as his. No one would question the transport of an unconscious woman.

He needn't have worried. The woman on the phone had been right. At that moment, "Helen Magnus" was leaving the Congress Hotel with a very dejected Nikola Tesla on their way back to the Old City Sanctuary after the cave she'd explored had proved ordinary, and useless.

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><p>Magnus went straight to her office upon her return to the Sanctuary. Tesla, while disappointed, had managed to talk to her without pause for the entire plane trip home. Thank God they'd chartered a private flight. The 36 hour commercial trip would have driven her mad. Tesla was stumped by the failure of his information, but was now more determined than ever to find the location of the cave. She could tell he knew it contained vampire technology. She wanted to call him out on it, but understood that the original Helen wouldn't. She'd let him play his games. The man was a genius, Magnus knew, and she admired his ambition, but after 150-odd years, he'd grown predictable in his attempts at world domination. She, thankfully, did not have the same limitations as he. She was already in charge of the most powerful, secret network the world had. Once she got it under proper control… who knows what she could do. If she worked him right, she knew Nikola would fall into line and help her on her way.<p>

Magnus looked around her office critically. She'd need to clear it out. There were too many useless decorations and sentimental items that cluttered the shelves. She walked over to the shelf behind her desk and picked up a picture frame.

Martin Luther King Jr.

A noble man, but she didn't need the picture in her office. She didn't need to see herself with powerful and innovative people for motivation. She was alone in this world, and could only rely on herself. She would use others to help her cause, certainly, but in the end, it was up to her. The house-cleaning could happen tomorrow, though. She needed to draw up her reports from this mission and submit them into the archives. Her double had been a stickler for such things, and ignoring her own protocols would set off alarms. She moved behind her desk, and sat down. It was plush and comfortable. Good. She'd be spending a lot of time there in the next few months.

Magnus booted up her computer. First things first: Changing all her passwords. If her double ever weaseled her way out of Sergei's control, there would still be no way for her to get control of the network back. She had to change all her staff's codes and backups as well, but would have to do so step-by-step. Perhaps stage a hacking of the internal systems. Henry could find it, and insist she change the passwords, just in case. It was so nice having a team who put security first.

_Two hours later_

"So, another tax write-off, eh?" Will said, shaking his head.

Magnus looked up from her desk. The annoying protégé had been talking at her for 20 minutes, giving her the basic summary of what had happened during the few days she'd been gone. She'd been nodding and agreeing in the appropriate places, but could care less. She knew what state the Network was in right now, that was the problem.

"Yet another one," she replied in a dramatic voice, shaking her own head and smiling. He laughed.

"Well, at least it brought Nikola down a peg or two!" he said joyously.

"Indeed!" she agreed, wondering why he couldn't just leave now.

"So, the Big Guy's made some kind of epic barbeque for dinner. You going to join us?"

Her mouth watered at the prospect of red meat.

"No, sorry, I don't think I'll be able to tonight," she said. "I've got a lot of work to do. Have some extra for me, won't you?"

He nodded, slightly crestfallen.

"Will do," he promised as he walked out the door.

"Finally," she muttered, looking back down at the paperwork on her desk. She didn't understand why her double had hired him. Yes, he was intelligent, an excellent profiler who saw things that many others missed, and a keen observer of behavioral patterns, yes she rarely used him for those skills. The man went out on field missions, for god's sake! He should be kept in the Sanctuary and used as the psychologist he was, not out playing with guns. And what of his dress? A brilliant psychologist who wore jeans and hooded shirts? He looked like a college student. In Magnus' opinion, Helen was too close to her staff. She let them do whatever they pleased far too often, and even engaged in friendships with them. To maintain proper control of a network like the Sanctuaries, one couldn't let emotions and petty relationships get in the way. She'd have to work on that. Slowly, of course. She didn't want to arouse suspicions.

Magnus slammed her pen down onto her desk, rattling the papers there. She hadn't slept since she'd woken up in the Armenian cave, but she felt like she could keep going for days. Energy coursed through her as if she were in the midst of a constant adrenaline rush. She needed to get out of the office before she started to channel her energy into helpless, inanimate objects. She pushed herself up and hurried out of the room.

The gym. She needed the gym.

Within 10 minutes, she'd made it to her room, changed, and ran to the gym. Ten minutes on the treadmill at high speed, and she was warmed up. She moved to the weights, picking up an extra 10 more in each hand than she usually did. It wasn't enough, so she upped it to 20. She worked her arms, legs, and core, and when that still wasn't enough, she moved to the punching bag and started resistance-cardio training. Blood was pounding in her ears, but she heard the Big Guy and Will walking down the corridor a full minute before they entered the gym. Their conversation stopped when they saw Magnus, red-faced but barely breaking a sweat, looking like she wouldn't stop even if a bomb went off. She paid them no mind, focusing intently on her work out. Will looked up at the Big Guy with raised eyebrows. The tall abnormal grunted, patted him on the arm, and left. Will took a deep breath.

"Uh, hey, Magnus," he said, approaching her cautiously. She gritted her teeth and ignored him, pounding at the bag as if her life depended on it. "Magnus?" he tried again. She let out a growl, low enough that he couldn't hear. Bloody persistent, wasn't he? She finally started to slow down, taking a minute for the rush to calm enough so she could speak. She stopped, schooled her features, and turned around.

"Yes, Will?"

She was breathing heavily, and Will was distracted for a moment by her heaving, tank-top covered chest. She crossed her arms pointedly and he coughed, embarrassed.

"You uh, you ok?" he asked, moving his eyes up to her. The blue of the gym mats set off the blue in her eyes.

"Of course, Will, why wouldn't I be?" she asked brightly.

"You were working out pretty hard there."

"And?"

"Just seemed like the kind of thing you do when you need to work out some issues."

She frowned, lightly. He _was_ good at what he did. She'd have to watch out for him. At her silence, he continued to push.

"Was it the Armenia thing?"

She cocked her head at him.

"You must be disappointed," he stated. "It was a big trip, and you had to put up with Nikola for the entire thing." He shuddered to emphasis his point. "But I know you were pretty excited about it. This whole Hollow Earth fiasco is going to keep boiling, building up, and if you'd found something that could have been useful…" he trailed off.

"You're right, Will," she smiled, putting on an air of defeat. "I'd had high hopes for this. I'm rather miffed at Nikola leading me on yet another wild goose chase."

Will reached out and touched her shoulder gently. "I get it," he said gently. "We all do." She gave him a small smile. "And hey, if you ever need a work out partner, I've been working on my moves!" he said, breaking the tense atmosphere.

She laughed and nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

He patted her once more on the shoulder, then left. She let out a deep breath. He might have been a good work out partner for Helen, but there's no way he could match her. He was marginally fit, she supposed, but still rather boyish. She could snap him like a twig. She imagined the fight in her mind for a few moments, shaking her head. Would she take him down first, or would his exhaustion get to him? She imagined him breathing hard, sweaty and red, lying on the floor. Then she imagined him red, sweaty, and lying on her bed. Her mouth quirked upwards. Maybe Helen's staff could be useful after all... Will, Kate, Nikola… She had too many memories of the werewolf as a boy to even consider that, and the butler wasn't even her species but otherwise, Helen did have an attractive team. If only John Druitt could show up. A host of memories washed over her.

Oh yes, she'd like to see him again.

Energy still flowed through her veins, her body buzzing. She turned back to the punching bag, readying herself for round two.

Barely three minutes later a voice interrupted her yet again.

"I think I figured it out!" Nikola cried as he burst into the gym. Magnus took a deep breath, gritting her teeth. Did the concept of "privacy" mean anything to these people?

"In the space of a few hours?" she commented drily. The vampire scoffed and resumed his tirade despite the fact her back was to him. She let him ramble for a few minutes about ancient text translation and the Vampire's concept of "coordinates". She turned around eventually, arms crossed over her chest. Nikola stopped mid-sentence.

"Why, Helen! I don't think I've seen you so red-faced since that time I caught you and Johnny…"

"Nikola," she interrupted, "If you've discovered something, please get to the point. I'd like to get back to my workout. I don't need to hear the entire story leading up to said discovery."

Nikola put his hand to his heart. "You wound me! The hunt for discovery is half the fun! You make me write it in those infernal reports to you anyways. Wouldn't you rather hear my sweet voice recount the tale for you instead?"

Magnus sighed. "I'm sorry, Nikola. I'm simply anxious to find the real cave, so if you have any new information I'm happy to hear the facts."

"Well," Tesla started, eyes alight. "Basically, I think I mistranslated a word that…"

Magnus raised an eyebrow.

"Turkey! I think the cave must be in Turkey!"

"Wonderful work, Nikola. When would you like to leave?"

His eyes grew even wider, and a hand went to his hip. "My dear, Helen. Are you finally coming to your senses and letting me conduct missions pertinent to my heritage all on my own? Letting me off your leash?"

"I had some time to think about things while wandering aimlessly around Armenia," she countered. "I'd much rather send you on the goose chase this time."

Tesla rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, thanks so much for your faith in me."

"Anytime," she grinned.

"I'm taking a bottle of '61 Chateau Lafite Rothschild for this," he informed her as he turned crisply on his shiny shoes and exited the gym.

_Well that should get rid of him for a while!_ Magnus thought triumphantly. She knew he would find nothing, but his pride would demand he spend a few extra days searching, desperate to prove himself right. In the meantime, it was at least one nagging voice off her back.

She turned to the punching bag, and got back to work.

_To Be Continued…_

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><p>Next up… what's happened to Helen!<p> 


	3. Old Friends

**A/N** OH GEEZ! Sorry for the delay, folks. "Monsoon" happened and I kind of had to focus on my story "Hang Out" for a while… Then work flooded my life and, well…. All the usual excuses that readers never care about! Hahah. This is the last chapter I had fully finished. From now on, I'm not sure where I want this story to go, so please, suggest away, and I'll incorporate as much of your ideas as I can :D

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><p>Helen's journey back to reality was slow, but steady. Even the double dose of tranquilizer metabolized quickly through her unique internal systems. Before she opened her eyes, she knew she was on a mildly lumpy bed, was wearing different clothes, and was pleasantly warm. She worked to unstick her heavy eyelids. She was in a small room, about 10 feet by 10 feet, illuminated by a weak light hanging in the middle of the ceiling. Besides her small bed, there was a little, square table, a chair, and an upright sink with a towel hanging over the edge. The furnishings were simple but clean. A small window to the left of her bed revealed a dark night with blustering snow. She'd obviously been moved far away from Armenia. Maybe the tranqs hadn't metabolized so quickly after all? At least her headache was gone. She always did heal well.<p>

The door to her room suddenly swung open. Her eyes flickered to above the doorsill, seeing a small, black device with a red light. They were watching her. A burly man dressed for harsh winter conditions entered her room, shaking snow off of his hood. A gust of wind followed, and she shivered. Her clothes were thick and well made, but the trousers, long-sleeved shirt, and socks were not enough to protect her from the blustery weather. The man threw a coat at her then reached into his own and withdrew a pair of boots. Helen weighed the chances of her taking him down and escaping, but with zero idea of where she was and the foul weather outside, she decided to wait. She silently put on the clothes and followed him out into the howling wind.

It hit Helen like a freight train, piercing through her heavy jacket. Her teeth instantly clattered against each other, her whole body shaking. She kept her eyes squeezed shut but for a tiny slit, so she could see the shape of the man in front of her. Mercifully, they arrived at their destination within a minute or two. She quickly shook the snow off her, stamping her boots as soon as the door closed behind them. She looked around. They were in a utilitarian hallway with dull lights and no decoration. Her escort pushed her shoulder, and she started walking forwards. Unmarked doors were scattered throughout the building, and every so often the wall would open up to another hallway that looked exactly the same. A sense of deja-vu hit her with such force it was almost overwhelming. It looked exactly like the complex she'd infiltrated in 1989, but that was impossible. She'd blown it up. If Sergei was alive, however, he very well could have rebuilt it. Was she in Siberia, then? She'd have to map out this new complex very carefully. The man following her reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her. He knocked on the door they stood beside.

"Enter," a voice called.

Her escort opened the door and pushed her in, but didn't follow. The door closed with a loud click, and then there was silence.

Sergei was seated at the far end of the room behind a large, wooden desk. A fireplace to his left crackled merrily, filling the room with a gentle heat. A few paintings adorned the walls. None of it disguised the bland, grey walls and cold floor, but it did help to distract from it. Upon her entrance, Sergei leaned back in his plush chair, lacing his fingers together and smiling at her.

"Helen Magnus…" he breathed. He still couldn't believe his luck. "Just as beautiful as ever. Please, take your coat off, get comfortable."

"You look well yourself," she replied as she complied, peeling off the heavy coat and hanging it on the coatrack next to her. And it was true. It had been 22 years since she'd seen him, but he'd aged gracefully. When she'd first met him, he'd been a young man of only 21. He'd been idealistic, eager, and determined. She'd taken advantage of all of those traits. She glanced over at the fire, and let her memories flow over her.

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><p>October 5, 1989<p>

The Cold War seemed to be coming to an end. The START I treaty was almost finalized, and Magnus had been informed by American President Bush that it would be signed by the end of the year. If she could finish this mission, that is. While hunting for a pair of wild panthera tigris altaica nivis, one of her staff had encountered a bunker hidden away in the snows of Siberia. Upon investigation, he'd found an entire hidden complex housing secret Soviet weapons blueprints, attack plans, and more. Magnus had reported it straight to the President, but when he'd questioned General Secretary Gorbachev, the Soviet leader genuinely seemed to have no knowledge of it. Both American and Soviet Intelligence suggested the complex housed a splinter group, probably armed and completely unpredictable. Magnus herself was tasked with infiltrating the complex, assessing the threat levels, and if necessary, stopping the operation at all costs.

She'd entered the bunker under the guise of being a British defector who'd become fascinated with the Communist cause over 20 years before in college. She claimed she had a contact in Moscow who'd given her the location of the bunker. She spoke perfect Russian, and had such a vast knowledge of Soviet history and current government goals that they'd let her in. She was an excellent liar.

The place was in a constant state of scrambling chaos. The people who worked there knew they had limited time to accomplish their goals. Within her first week there, Helen learned the group was made up of carefully recruited military, police, and other such personnel. The higher-ups looked for several things, but most of the people working there were young men, imbued with national pride, who believed their country was being led astray by Secretary Gorbachev. They wanted to keep the Soviet Union strong, free, and united at all costs. Fanatics.

After her second week there, Helen knew she needed to shut them down. To do so, however, she required access to their computer systems, and that was something she couldn't seem to get. One night she'd been wandering the halls doing reconnaissance under the pretense of going for a cup of tea. She stopped in front of a door, looked around quickly, and slipped inside the security room. She'd found a young man sitting at the controls, his back straight, gazing intently at the screens though he knew nothing would happen. He just liked to be prepared. She'd smiled at him when he leapt up and turned around, saluting, thinking she was one of his superiors.

"Ah, Cary!" he'd said, blushing. Caroline Williams was her alias.

"I'm sorry," she'd replied sweetly in Russian, "I've forgotten your name?"

"It's Jeloudov, ma'am. Sergei Jeloudov."

Another week and he was giving her codes to the security feeds around the base but was hesitant to let her into the locked rooms where only the highest ranked officers gathered. He was an intense young man who believed in his cause completely. He wanted only to please his superiors and serve his nation. She convinced him that by helping her, he was. On October 28, she snuck a bottle of vodka into the security room and told him about the Western tradition of Halloween, where people dress up and pretend to be something else, entering a world of fantasy for one special night. She needed to finish this mission soon. The governments of several nations were pressuring her, and four-year-old Ashley hated when she was away for more than a few days no matter, "how important Mommy's work was."

Three days later, on October 31, she led him back to her room, and for one night made all his fantasies come true. By the next morning, he'd told her everything he knew about the base, security, guard schedules, and the plan to launch a secret weapon that neither she nor the major intelligence agencies knew existed. When she quietly stood up from the bed and started to dress, he said, "I love you," and she'd smiled and kissed him.

That night she felt the concussion of the explosion rock the ground despite already being five miles out, her snowmobile working at full power and her long, white coat pulled tight around her goggles. She thought of Sergei. He had been nice, really, genuine and sweet; just horribly misguided in his perception of the world. He wasn't on shift tonight, so was probably sleeping. She was glad he'd died peacefully, thinking his path in life was secure and safe.

She didn't know that he'd been sent out on his first field mission that afternoon. He himself hadn't been informed of it until late that morning, suddenly called to the CO's office to receive his orders, prep, and leave. He hadn't had time to even leave her a note. The START 1 treaty was signed barely a month later, and for 22 years, Helen had thought Sergei was dead.

Helen drifted back to the present, the flames in the fireplace starting to burn down. She crossed her arms and turned to look at Sergei. At 43 years old, he was in the prime of his life. His dark hair was thick and trimmed with military precision. He'd filled out his 6'3" frame, his jaw solid and his face composed. He'd grown from a cute boy into an incredibly handsome man. His blue eyes watched her intently. His stance in his chair was relaxed, but she could tell he was anything but. He hadn't asked her about her remarkable lack of aging, but his lack of surprise, plus the fact that he knew her real name led her to believe he knew a lot more about her life over the last few decades than she did about his.

"Where are we?" she asked, her voice strong.

"Don't you remember?" he smiled. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You rebuilt it?"

He nodded.

She wondered why the Russian government hadn't kept their eyes on this place, wary of just such a thing.

"When?"

"Not too long ago. It took many years to find surviving associates of my group. You were very good, you know. All our top members were in the bunker that day. We had to work under a mere Lieutenant for several years. Took a long time to rebuild our numbers, convince our contacts we were still a functioning society. Even longer to raise the finances to rebuild our home."

"It seems a Lieutenant is no longer in command?" she remarked.

"Thankfully, anyone who might have known about our… special bond was killed in your explosion. No one knew it had been me who betrayed us." His face hardened as he spoke the words. Since that fateful night, it had been his personal mission in life to make up for the mistakes he'd made, the weakness he'd shown, how easily he had fallen under the spell of the older, alluringly mysterious defector.

"Well," he conceded, "One man suspected. Do you remember Pechenkin?"

She'd known every man in the complex by name.

"He knew. He'd noticed how often you visited me during my shift. He was jealous, I think. He confronted me about it." Sergei looked wistful. "He was the first man I ever killed."

Helen felt cold. She'd turned the young boy into a murderer. But she couldn't think of him like that anymore. He was a grown man. A dangerous man.

"So you're still playing away at your war games, then?" she asked. "Hiding away in the snow like a frightened animal, always planning your great attack, but never actually doing anything?"

He banged his fist on his desk and stood up, his solid frame intimidating.

"We called ourselves the Semyá, did you know?" he said quietly. "Family."

Helen remained silent.

"You didn't just kill my comrades, you killed my brothers."

He walked around his desk and moved towards her. He came to rest barely a foot away, his hands clasped behind his back in parade rest. He looked into her eyes, and she stared straight back. All traces of the eager young man were gone. He looked at her now with the hate and cynicism of a man who'd spent more than half his life blaming her for every problem in his own. She had no idea what to expect from him.

"And what will my place in this new Family be?" she questioned.

He smiled at her. "You know, I don't allow animals in the complex," he said, making her frown. "They're distracting, messy, get in the way…"

He stepped back, looking her up and down. Her skin felt itchy. He reached out and grabbed a lock of her dark hair, rubbing it between his fingers.

"I think I'm going to call you Maggie, now," he announced. "It's a good name for a pet, isn't it?" he grinned. She spat in his face. With a growl, the hand in her hair grabbed on, tight. He swung her around, slamming her head into the wall. It connected with a loud crack, and she cried out, vision blurring and knees buckling. She regained her balance quickly, wheeling around and swinging back at him with a powerful right hook. It knocked him off balance enough for her to swing her leg up and connect with his side. He grunted, bending over, and she prepped for another kick. He saw it coming, shifting backwards to avoid it, then stepping in and punching her in the back as she landed, right in her kidney. She stumbled forward and he lunged, grabbing her from behind, wrapping his arms around her in a vice grip. She struggled for a moment, his grip unbreakable, before swinging her head backwards to smash into his face. His arms twitched and she broke free. She ran to the opposite side of the desk, putting it between them while she recovered her breath.

Sergei did the same, breathing heavily, but smiling. "You were always a frisky one, weren't you? So flexible."

Helen's stomach twisted. He'd been young, but happy to learn. She didn't know how long he'd been cooped up in the complex, and while not a virgin, he'd been very inexperienced. She'd taught him many things. He obviously knew his body very well now, including how to use it as a weapon. They tarried around the desk for a few seconds, but Sergei grew bored. He picked up the single picture frame on his desk and hurled it at her. She threw her arms up in defense, and in that one moment of distraction, he was able to reach across, grab her by the collar, and pick her clean off the ground, dragging her across the desk, its contents flying to the floor as she tried to move her legs to kick at him. He threw her to the ground giving her a swift kick. He called to someone outside of the room as he moved in for another, but she caught his foot, twisting it, sending him crashing to the floor beside her. She leapt on top of him as the office door swung open.

Captain Kuzmenko's jaw dropped when he saw the brunette woman on top of his commanding officer, pummeling him like a punching bag. He screamed out for backup before running forward, grabbing the woman and hauling her back. She yelled and twisted in his grip, her elbow appearing out of nowhere and smashing into his face. He cursed and let her go. Her fist connected with his head, and he knew no more, falling to the ground. Helen turned to Sergei, now on his feet again, blood dripping from his forehead, lip and nose, rage in his eyes.

The sound of running boots echoed through the corridor, and several men burst into the office. It took only a second to assess the situation, and they lurched forward, each grabbing onto one of Helen's limbs. She struggled, but soon they had lifted her off the ground, spread eagled, two men hugging her legs as they sat on the ground while two others held her arms out. Sergei strode forward and landed a vicious kick to her exposed torso. She heard snapping, and her stomach caved in, her back arching out. He stalked forward and punched her straight in the face, breaking her nose. Blood streamed down her face as she glared at him, finally stopping her wild flailing. She knew she'd already lost this fight.

Sergei nodded in acknowledgment of her surrender and ordered his men to let her go. They silently complied, placing her feet on the ground before moving to line the back wall, ready to intervene again if necessary. Helen reached up; grasping her nose and snapping it back into place before wiping what blood she could off with her sleeve. She couldn't quite stand up straight, thanks to her now broken ribs.

"I suggest, Maggie," he said, "That you accept your place here. It will be a lot worse for you if you do not."

She remained stonily silent.

"I'm not going to torture or kill you," he promised. "Not yet, at least. I've been waiting 22 years for this. I don't plan on rushing things."

He nodded to his men, and they escorted her out, walking her down the corridor to the exit. They opened the door, pointed to a distant light, and pushed her out into the cold, her thick parka still in Sergei's office. By the time she made it to her little room, her lips were blue, and she'd almost stopped shaking. She sat painfully down on the edge of her bed. At least the bleeding had stopped. She took a few minutes to start warming up before she stood and walked to the sink to wash the blood off her face and rinse out her mouth. She grabbed the towel then moved back to the bed. She gingerly raised her shirt, tucking it into her collar to keep it up while she assessed the damage to her ribs. After some painful prodding she figured there were three broken. She then wrapped the towel as best she could around herself, binding her torso to promote quick healing. She was exhausted by the time she was finished and short of breath. She very carefully and slowly laid down on her back. Her pillow was lumpy. She grabbed the thin blanketand pulled it up to her chin. Despite her exhaustion, it took several hours to tame her churning thoughts and fall into an uneasy sleep.

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><p>Well Magnus is in a bit of a pickle, isn't she! *Grin* What should Sergei do with her! How could she possibly try escape! What's happening back with Repli!Magnus, at the Sanctuary!<p> 


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